


Silhouette

by armored_alchemist



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: BDSM, Blood, Dom/sub, F/M, M/M, Multiple Personalities, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Urine, Whipping, forget self-harm, just let your boyfriend do it for you, someone's got issues and it isn't Ed, wow what the fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-10 12:41:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12912147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armored_alchemist/pseuds/armored_alchemist
Summary: Why the fuck am I up at 2 am writing this shit?





	Silhouette

He dangled from a bar. 

A horizontal metal bar: cold, unyielding, held up by two likewise poles.

Ankles chained to the bar.

A rope around his midsection, binding both arms to torso and preventing movement. Chafing, sure to leave scars.

A dark room lit only by his fading hope.

Tears and struggling. More struggling. He would do anything, oh anything, to escape this pain. However, he didn't cry for the pain; he cried for fear. The poor boy was frightened. Distressed.

His stomach made a vocal objection to being deprived of food for days - but never mind that, he had to use the bathroom. The boy shook blonde hair matted with blood, semen and sweat out of his face as best he could and made muffled cries through the cloth gag, begging to be let out. Just for a minute. He'd let himself be tied up again, but he had to - to go. Now. 

Something broke in him when he felt a warm line of wet pour down his chest and across the side of his face, splattering on the floor without abandon. It was bad, but felt so good. Anything was good, considering current circumstances.

He hurt, and he was dirty, and tired, and small. 

Enough time had passed, and he was broken enough, that the distress faded almost all the way...until the door opened. 

The door. The light. the silhouette of someone. 

Tears and struggling. The other person didn't respond at all to the boy's reaction, perhaps too caught up in observing it intently. Admiring their work. As they approached, their face was revealed, though the boy already knew who it was. 

A single touch sufficed to quell the boy's cries. A hand ever so gently caressing his cheek. Soft. Sweet. More tears.

The human closed their eyes, inhaling the air full of odors. It was almost done. One more thing remained, and it would be over. Since the upside down boy had gone completely still, their footsteps were the only penetration in the empty, soundless room. Like a vacuum. 

He picked up the object. The one object the room did contain, besides the display quickly gaining fear at the unknown occurring out of his sight. 

His eyes pupils dilated in order to take in more of the beautiful thing he held. He took it to his mouth, passed it past his lips. He sucked on the leather handle, bit it, licked it, worshiped it with his mouth then took it out. Touched it to his cheek preciously, held it to his heart comfortingly, slid it down his clothed body to his crotch and rutted on it desperately. 

He held in his metal hand a whip. 

"This..." 

Even the perpetrator wasn't prepared for the sound of his voice, especially not so husky. 

He took another stab. "This is the last step."

Those five words did nothing for the boy, who had no idea of the horror about to occur. 

"I have to do this. It's over. Just this. I'm going to hit you. Are you ready?"

Ready?

Bottom lip dove between teeth. He knew to aim between the ropes. His heartbeat picked up pace in anticipation. 

He took his breath, and the crack of the whip as it struck the boy's tender skin was drowned out by cries of intense pain. Blood dripped down to join the pool of various fluids on the floor under the boy. All that was left, marking wise, was a line so thin it could've been drawn with a red pen. And there was his release. 

His braid flopped up and down, landing on the back of his neck every time, as he rushed over to his captive. He clapped his hands, alchemically releasing the boy from his prison. A muted thud, because the boy had lost all strength and preferred to lay on the floor and die.

Why, he didn't even bother registering the litany of sweet nothings and praises pouring from Ed's mouth. If he could hate, he would have, but he wasn't capable of that.

"Why...?" A voice dry and cracked from disuse, was not able to finish his sentence.

"Why did you hurt me, Edward?" His whole anorexic body shuddered uncontrollably. He was scared. Still. Broken or not, he was terrified. "Please don't hurt me!"

Ed's eyes glistened with unshed tears. He held his jaw tight until he assured himself he could speak with relative clarity.

"I had to. You don't understand, you'll understand later, just please!  Had to. Look. See?" 

The boy began sobbing, shudders evolving into full on convulsions. "Why why why why why why.." He babbled like a child, rocking back and forth as much as his weak body was able.

"Oh , don't you see?! I need this! You need this!"

But Ed shook his head, realising that even if Winry hadn't reverted to her childlike state her mind wasn't big enough to understand something she couldn't hold. So he held her tightly, rocking her back and forth, riding out the storm of wails.

"Big brother's gonna take good care of you, okay? Yes. I gotcha. I gotcha." 

She eventually calmed down to the occasional small whimper. 

"I don't understand..w-"

"I know. Shh. You don't have to, big brother's gonna take care of everything."

She opened her mouth to speak again, but he shushed her with a gentle kiss. He stole the breath right out of her lungs; hypnotized her with his pseudo-kind, aurulent gaze; captured the rabbit in his trap.

"I love you, Winry." He said simply.

Her expression screwed up and she shook her head back and forth. "No no no, don't- don't call me that." She said, in quite literally a child's voice.

He scoffed lightly. "That's your name, isn't it?"

"No! My name is-"

"Your name," he interrupted sternly, "is Winry. Your alter is Finn."

That got her. She was surprised that he remembered. When the slender body spoke, it was male. "Yes... You remembered."

Ed sighed. "You're the one who can't remember."

"Why did you hurt me? I can understand." Finn pleaded with the one who held his heart firmly in his automail grasp. "She couldn't, but I can."

For a moment Edward entertained the possibility, then internally decided against it, realising it was indeed, impossible. 

He brushed a strand of hair out of the boy's face. 

"Why don't we get you cleaned up, huh? Take a nice warm bath? You'd feel better after a nice warm bath, wouldn't you?" He cooed.

Finn didn't want to relinquish control. But Winry's need for big brother was overwhelming. 

She nodded.


End file.
